


Whatever It Takes

by turntechGayface



Category: Glee, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Anxiety, Blindness, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Eventual Happiness, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Stuff Will Happen, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mental Instability, Muteness, Physical Disability, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Unimportant OC, Violence, What Was I Thinking?, loss of magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechGayface/pseuds/turntechGayface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll always be here" Kurt whispered "Whatever it takes. To make you see. To make you speak. I'll be here. When you need to cry, when you want to laugh. I'm here. I'll never leave" If Harry could speak, he'd speak of his love for Kurt, and he'd cry for his losses. If he could see, he'd see the face of his angel. The one who never left his side.</p><p>Focuses on Harry and Kurt predominantly, and does get better :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some continuity errors. Will be fixed once story is finished :) Irregular updates, sorry guys :(
> 
> WARNINGS! This story contains Violence, Angst, Fluff, GUYLOVE, and similar. STORY MOVES QUICKLY AND CAN BE CONFUSING!

Darkness. That was all he could see. His wand had been taken from him along with his clothes, glasses and anything else of value that was on his person.

He had been here for what seemed like weeks, and had only received menial amounts of food and water; just enough to keep him alive. He hadn't seen the light since his kidnapping in Diagon Alley. He doubted he ever would again.

After he had defeated Voldemort, the Wizarding world had been on a sort of high, and had been prying into every detail of his life, forcing his current guardians to commit suicide. He'd loved them dearly, almost as much as he loved the Weasleys and Grangers, his pseudo family. And whilst Daemon and Jonah Jones didn't have seven years of scholarly friendship, they had a loving relationship with each other and their legally adopted son. I digress. Let's continue.

He had been beaten senseless everyday by people in black cloaks and black masks. He knew they weren't Death Eaters; they were all in Azkaban, and this fact confused him. Especially had they had used muggle weapons on occasion. This was the least of his problems, despite his body being covered in bleeding wounds, because his tormenters hadn't returned after their last attack.

Just then the door banged open, and in they marched. Their masks were off and sneers decorated their features. One of them began to chant, not knowing that Harry was the master of Death, and only some of this would work.

Ligare eius corpus,

prohibere aetate,

dimidium vitae,

tollere ira,

replete misericordia,

empathy, amor,

ligaveris tristitia,

fugere mea Dove

A glint of steel was the last thing Harry saw. He screamed: then passed out.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt Hummel had just left the theatre after watching the Lima Lovers musical version of Romeo and Juliet and was heading towards his dads car. He was a little saddened by the fact that none of his fellow Glee-clubbers had come, even though he had formally invited all of them. Looking back on it, Kurt realised that not many sixteen/seventeen year olds wanted to come to a theatre on a Saturday night. Rachel was more likely practicing from her latest Glee solo, Mercedes would be Skyping the new kid Sam, Finn would be playing COD on multiplayer with Puck and Artie, Satan-Santana would be helping Brittany with something, Mika and Tina would be doing something romantic, and Quinn would be, well, Quinn.

He was humming the closing song of the play when a he heard a whimper. He could see his dad in the distance, looking at him, and could see the confusion etched on his ageing features. He gestured to his only living parent to come help him just before he followed the sound. What he saw shocked him beyond words. So he screamed.

"DAD! CALL AN AMBULANCE"

"Calm down Kurt. I'm sure it's not that bad…." He trailed of as he saw the body; naked, covered in cuts and bruises, gunshots, slashed throat, gouged out eye and the other one bleeding sluggishly. Within a second of taking it in, Burt was on the phone, explaining the situation.

"…Looks about twenty, black hair, tall-ish, no ID…"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The unknown man had been in surgery for five hours already, and all attempts at identifying him had come up empty. Lost in musing Kurt didn't notice the Doctor come out of the Operating Theatre with a solemn look on his features. It was only when his dad nudged him slightly that he noticed, his face contorting a look of pain.

"Well?" Burt asked.

"We've discovered that all of his wounds are man made, ranging from three months to 12 hours ago. He has a broken ankle, collarbone, arm, leg, hand, jaw, three broken ribs, a punctured lung, internal bleeding, cracked skull, scratched retina and cornea and severed vocal chords. We've stopped the internal and external bleeding, and mended the remaining eye as best we could, same with the vocal chords. The eye will take a long time to heal, and he will not have full sight in that eye for at least three years. He will start regaining vision after four months, but it will extremely blurry and dark. His vocal chords however, are a different matter."

"How so?" Questioned Kurt.

"Well they were cut pretty deep. He may not be able to speak again, even after the seven month healing process. Even if he can relearn speech, he may not want to. We have to consider the emotional wounds this attack has inflicted on him too. He is going to have to stay in our care for a month so we can monitor his progress, and hopefully track down any relatives. Of course we have to wait until he wakes up and is in a good state for questioning by us and the police." Burt frowned

"What if you can't find out who did this to him, or find his family?"

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it. You are welcome to stay by the way"

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Why? My eyes are open. I can feel it. Why can I only sense light from one eye?

Visions assaulted him as he remembered the glint of steel and the feeling of that pain came back. He tried screaming, but was only greeted by searing pain across the whole of his body. He heard a tear, and soon felt a wet patch forming on his skin. The nurses were suddenly alerted by a crash resounding throughout the Intensive Care Ward. He had knocked over a vase of flowers. Immediately afterwards, he began having vivid visions of the war, filled with crashes, shouts, and blood. It took three nurses and a healthy dose of anaesthetic to stop his thrashing. His wounds had to be washed and re-dressed and he was tethered to the bed using soft leather straps.

When he woke the second time, he tried thrashing again and upon discovering he couldn't, he calmed down. Kurt was in the room when this happened, and instead of calling a nurse like he should have, he began to stroke the stranger's hair, whispering soothing words until he calmed down.

"I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel." It felt polite to say, even if he couldn't or didn't reply.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter" The newly named Harry mouthed

"Harry? Try slowing down. I can read lips. My Uncle Andrew is deaf. He taught me sign language and lip reading."

"Thank you. I know sign language too. I can also read Braille" It wasn't a lie. Harry had learnt from Jonah, who worked at a centre for the Blind, Deaf and Mute. "Where am I?" He mouthed.

"You're in hospital."

"Why can't I see or speak?"

"One of your eyes was gouged out, the other was scratched up. Your vocal chords were severed. I'm sorry." Kurt said brokenly.

"Oh"

Just then Burt walked in.

"Who're you talking to Kurt?"

Harry visibly flinched at the gruff tone, similar to one of his kidnappers. It bought back an onslaught of emotion, causing him to shake uncontrollably. Kurt noticed this, and gestured to his father to be quiet.

"Harry, sweetie, he's not going to hurt you. He's my dad."

He carried on whispering to Harry until he began to drift off to a peaceful slumber in his arms. He laid the fragile body onto the plush white pillows, and pulled the light blue blankets up to his shoulders. Placing the pale hands on top, minding the IV needle, he stepped back and silently beckoned his father outside, closing the door behind him. The countertenor then proceeded to go to the nurse's office and explain what had happened. They looked at him with shock at what he had done.

"Why did you do that?"

"He looked distressed! What was I supposed to do? Leave him there and call a nurse who would just drug him up for another day?"

"Yes!"

"Well at least I discovered something" With that, Kurt turned on his heel and stalked back to his father.

"Come on Dad, we're going to the library"

Initially, Burt was shocked by this sudden display of responsibility, but followed his son to the library. It was only when they got there that he questioned his child's actions.

"Obviously Dad, we are doing what the hospital isn't. We are going to see what we can find out about Harry Potter."

And so they did. By the time they had finished they had a fair amount of information. Not as much as they would have liked, but enough. To begin with, it had been hard, as there were 257'390 Harry Potters in the world. They narrowed it down by going on the missing persons reports and giving a description. They had two. One British and one American. In the end they chose the British one, as he was closer to their Harry than the American, namely because the American was had a possible sighting in Canada two days ago.

Harry James Potter

Born July 31st 1991 (age 20)

Removed from all school records age eleven.

Removed from guardians age 15 due to Child Protection Agencies receiving notification of child abuse.

Place in foster care for three years.

Adopted by Daemon and Jonah Jones.

Adoption nullified three months later due to the murder of Daemon and Jonah.

Dropped off grid for two years.

Bought house in Scotland.

Kidnapped age 20. No sightings as of yet. Full scale investigation has been launched.

"Wow"

Little did they know that some of that information was false. His real name was actually Harrison Laurent Potter-Black Jones, and he was born in 1980, making his true age 31. Daemon and Jonah didn't die; they faked their deaths. They couldn't handle the stress of the media arriving every other day, prying into even the menial details of their lives, so they faked suicide. They also didn't know he was a wizard that had been force-fed a de-ageing potions and liquid obliviate not 12 hours ago. Or that the people who beat him were escaped Death Eaters. Or that he suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Then again, neither did he. He knew his name, and little more.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On their next visit, Kurt and Burt bought several braille books for Harry, ranging from Romance to Horror, and some more flowers. Kurt also bought his iPod. Soon after arrival, they had developed a pattern. Whilst Harry read, Kurt would listen to his music, and Burt would do paper work. Every few minutes, Kurt or Burt would ask about the book, or ask a question, and Harry would provide a brief explanation, Kurt translating. Harry gave short answers or none at all. A few hours later, when Kurt began humming Defying Gravity, Harry reached over, the lack of tethers, and heightened hearing helping, and touched Kurts arm.

"Oh my goodness, was I disturbing you?" Harry grinned and signed:

"No. But I was wondering if you could sing out loud? I love this song, and want to hear you sing. You can, can't you?"

It was strange how he had trusted them so quickly, but still couldn't tolerate ten minutes with any of the hospital staff. It was Kurt and Burt who had discovered Harrys PTSD, and organised some prescription meds to help it. It was strange, but Kurt didn't mind.

"Sure" Kurt replied, glancing at his dad, who diligently went to close the door.

"Why did you close the door?"

"People can be mean"

"Fair enough"

"From the beginning?"

"Yes, please"

"Alright then" Kurt cleared his throat.

"Something has changed within me

Something is not the same

I'm through with playing by the rules

Of someone else's game

Too late for second-guessing

Too late to go back to sleep

It's time to trust my instincts

Close my eyes: and leap!

It's time to try

Defying gravity

I think I'll try

Defying gravity

And you can't pull me down!

I'm through accepting limits

''Cause someone says they're so

Some things I cannot change

But till I try, I'll never know!

Too long I've been afraid of

Losing love I guess I've lost

Well, if that's love

It comes at much too high a cost!

I'd sooner buy

Defying gravity

Kiss me goodbye

I'm defying gravity

And you can't pull me down"

By the end of the song, Harry was grinning from ear to ear, and proceeded to clap happily.

"Wow! That was amazing," he signed excitedly "I've always wanted to hear a countertenor sing that song" Kurt smiled. Someone who didn't mind his voice and liked his style was hard to come by. The other members of Glee liked him, but he was too, gay, for their tastes. But Harry on the other hand, seemed genuinely happy and pleased by his singing.

Kurt smiled. With Harry, everything was OK.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shāshǒu is Chinese for killer (or similar) and names mentioned in this chapter are actual Death Eaters.

"I can't believe we did it! We killed Harry Potter!"

"He'll be so proud of us. We'll be the envy of inner circle."

"They'll look up to us! Appreciate us!"

"And they thought we were useless. We'll show them"

Murmurs of agreement echoed throughout the corridors as several hooded figures made their way into the building. As they neared their destination, they produced ice blue masks from their robes, and put their hoods up. Shadows cast over their faces, they entered their destination; an abandoned ballroom.

Despite its status, it still looked majestic. The walls were covered with intricate mosaics, and detailed murals, which accentuated the gold pillars that circled the outside of the room. The ceiling was a detailed carving of the Battle of Waterloo, made entirely of ivory. The floor was composed of lightly polished oak boards and in the far corner, partially concealed by a partition, was a solitary patch of rich magenta carpet, presumably for the orchestra. Time had taken its toll however, and all the colours were washed out, and the decorations were each covered in a thin layer of dust. The only things that didn't fit the room were the three high backed chairs that were placed in the middle.

When the four people entered, the three chairs had occupants, and about twenty people in similar dress were already there, kneeling on the floor.

The first chair held none other than Lucius Malfoy, age on his features, his hair cut short, and his eyes dull behind their glasses. It had taken a lot for the old crowd to trust him, and the price he paid had been dear. Now, he held a high place of hierarchy among what he now called Shāshǒu.

"Why are you late?" He drawled. "We called you twenty minutes ago" The looks of happiness quickly vanished from their faces as they began to grovel and beg for forgiveness.

"Shut up!" Roared Rabastan Lestrange, "Tell us where you were!" Immediately the looks of euphoria returned as the presumed leader, Amicus Carrow, began to babble excitedly, his stutter not helping at all.

"Well Goyle and Crabbe overheard you t-talking about Harry P-potter, and they f-found Jugson and me. We d-did a bit of res-s-search, found out his l-l-location, a-a-and we k-kidnapped him."

"What?" Rodolphus Lestrange questioned from Lucius' left. He could feel similar auras of displeasure radiating from his leader and brother. None of the men picked up on the subtle anger portrayed in that word, and consequently continued. This time Jugson spoke.

"We kidnapped him. He had gone into Diagon Alley to meet up with Luna Lovegood, and we followed him, and apparated to an old building that was to be knocked down in a few weeks. Then we hired a couple of people to help us beat him up and torture him, because Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't. We fed him a liquid Obliviate and Portkeyed him to America. If is alive, he won't know anything."

There was a silence.

"YOU IDIOTIC MORONS HAD NO IDEA WHAT WE WERE TALKING ABOUT!"

"Calm down Rabastan!" Lucius chastised. "They didn't know"

"BUT THEY STILL EAVESDROPPED ON A PRIVATE CONVERSATION!" Rodolphus nodded in agreement with his older sibling.

"What shall we do Lucius?"

"This. Crucio" Jugson, Amicus, Crabbe and Goyle each fell to their knees, the curse coursing through their veins, and all attempts at strength vanishing as they began to scream. After a minute, the other Shāshǒu began to look uncomfortable, and Malfoy Sr. released the curse. The bodies fell to the floor and lay limp, twitching every few seconds. He stood up, his robes cascading around him, and dismissed the Shāshǒu by striding out of the room, the Lestrange brothers following at his heels. Just before the exited he summoned one of the Inner Circle to follow him.

Following the winding corridors throughout the structure, Lucius reminisced on his new generation of Death Eaters. They had different morals, different rules, and a different hierarchy. The only thing similar was the uniform and the Circle method. They were summoned through black bracelets, charmed to tell the location and time. It was quite smooth actually.

When they reached their desired room, they sat down and summoned a house elf for refreshments. Alecto, the Inner Circle member, immediately launched straight in with:

"I know what you want me to do."

The three men smiled.

"Do it"


	3. Chapter 3

She was skilled in Mind Magic for a reason.

Almost as soon as she left the private room, she apparated to her north London second floor flat, and immediately went into her dark room to perform the necessary ritual. The point me spell was out of the question, as it wasn't strong enough to find people. Shaking out of her thoughts, she drew a large circle on the floor in red chalk, and added various runes for luck and location.

Unfortunately for her, the ritual was old, and existed in times where physical objects were needed to ensure equivalence. They were rare and hard to find, but Potter was worth it. It took exactly a month to find the ingredients; 100g of Bat Guano, 759g of Shisandra Root, 2 Python Skins, 42 Nightshade Petals, 666ml of Unicorn Blood, and a teaspoon of molten iron. The latter was the hardest to preserve, needing a specially made container, charmed with a lot of borderline illegal spells.

She got back to her apartment at eleven o'clock, and began the preparations. It took about fifteen minutes to slice the skins, blend the Guano with the petals, dice the Shisandra, boil the blood and half solidify the iron. Once completed, they were placed on separate points on the pentagram which had been drawn with chalk as soon it struck eleven.

Satisfied with her progress, she began to chant.

Invenies,animo  
Facta meanon malum, sedinsteadgenus  
Invenirepropositum,invocaresanctos,  
et peccatores simuletpetere auxiliumin hacfatalenocte.  
Vereorconsequatsedauxilium  
necpecuniam, animam trado.  
Animamea est, etnihil estlautus,  
Sumemea donaciosum videns.  
Omnescupioest hocin parvisvoluntatem,  
et nondiscedimusegodesidero.

Over and over she chanted, building power and magic with every passing second. On the thirteenth chant, she collapsed to the floor, images and emotions flooding into her head, her mental barriers forcefully being torn down. She lay there, gasping, for the better part of thirty minutes, but as soon as her body allowed it, she pulled herself up, and followed the memories, apparating to Harry Potter's magical signature.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt Hummel had fallen asleep. He had swung by the hospital after school, even though today wasn't one of their visiting days. They had developed a pattern over the last month that they had stuck to diligently, but today seemed to feel different. He couldn't explain it, he almost felt compelled to go. His eyes fluttered open only to be greeted by a bright light coming from Harry's room. He proceeded with caution, peeking in through the blinds. No-one should be here. Neither should I….why didn't those nurses wake me! Oh yeah….I asked to stay over.

The clock above his slightly mussed chestnut locks revealed the time as 12:00am, increasing his uneasiness in leaps and bounds. He tentatively pushed the door open, just a crack, and almost passed out in shock.

There was a lady; a strange lady.

She had long blond hair, and was clothed in black material that reached the floor. That wasn't the strangest thing. Her hands were glowing as she moved them across Harrys sleeping form, the latter moaning every few seconds. Kurt remained outside the room, as it looked like she was doing more good than harm.

Suddenly, the figure stood erect, twisted slightly and disappeared.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pleased with her work, Alecto Carrow, returned to her masters quarters. Fortunately, only Lucius was in, which meant she wouldn't be screamed at or cursed. The blond aristocrat acknowledged her presence with a tilt of the head and a subtle gesture to take a seat.

"I assume all went well Miss Carrow, though we weren't expecting for at least two days."

"Do you doubt me so much Mr Malfoy? All is well. I placed a charm on his wounds so they will heal twice as quick, but the potion in his system, the liquid Obliviate, was brewed incorrectly, thus I couldn't completely reverse the effects. He will only remember his missing memories if he is exposed to magic he is familiar with or….."

"Or what, Miss Carrow"

"Due to the incorrect brewing of the potion, it took qualities from other potions. Including the love potion. Even after his wounds heal, he won't be able talk unless he is kissed by his true love. Now that I think about it, it is partially similar to the muggle story the Little Mermaid. I placed fake memories in his head, which he will remember throughout the next week. I then used my time turner to go back and put the fake information into an easily found webpage, and before you ask, it's broken, so it can only go back short periods of time, and not to the time of the incident. The de-ageing potion will break when the memory charm does, and any muscle strength he gains will not be lost"

Lucius placed his elbows on his desk, and intertwined his fingers, eyes downcast, deep in thought. A few minutes later he lifted his head.

"We shall leave him for the moment, and I will inform the Shāshǒu to stay away from him, and we shall use our strings in the Daily Prophet to put up fake sightings of Potter to throw them off our tails. When he eventually returns to the Wizarding World, we will inform him of our part in keeping people out of his life, and how we killed his torturers-"

"Killed, sir?"

"Yes. We are sending a few people after them. There will be no trace of us at all."

"Is that everything sir?"

"Yes, Miss Carrow. You will be rewarded for your hard work"

"Thank you, sir"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry was dreaming. He was dreaming of sunsets and landscapes and friendships and love ties and a whole manner of things. Then the niceness disappeared as quickly as it had come. He was attacked by an onslaught of emotion and memories.

Four year old Harry standing in the kitchen, slicing vegetables, and putting them onto boil. Aunt Petunia stood behind him, not helping, but watching him with her beady eyes. Every few minutes she would bark out an order, and Harry would scurry to her demands. Occasionally she would startle him, and boiling water would splash over the pot onto his arm, or he'd burn his hands. 

Six year old Harry was frying bacon and eggs for the Dursleys breakfast, taking great care not to burn it. The doorbell rang, but no-one went to answer it. Vernon Dursley turned bright red and 'addressed' his nephew. 

"FREAK! Go get the mail."

"I can't, sir, the bacon." Dursley Sr. smirked to himself.

"Leave the bacon, Petunia will do it. Fetch the mail, Freak"

"Yes sir" Harry padded into the hall to retrieve the mail, and as soon as he came back, he was pushed to the ground. The mail fluttered around him, a few falling quickly, cutting the young boys face and hands. "What did I do, sir?" he questioned.

"The bacon is burnt" Vernon was red in the face, and grinning like a mad man.

"I thought Miss was taking care of it?"

"I never said that" Harry glanced at the table, where his Aunt and Cousin were turning blind eyes to the confrontation in the kitchen. He bowed his head in defeat. "I'm sorry sir" After a few seconds, he looked up….to see the hot saucepan flying towards him. There was burning heat and pain on his torso, and then he passed out.

Nine year old Harry was on his way back from the park, where he had been hiding from Dudley, Piers and Grant. The report cards for school had come out, and Harrys was better than theirs. They cornered him on the way home and punched him until he could barely stand, then gave him three minutes to get away. Despite his wounds, he ran as fast as he could, and hid in the only place he could think of. 

The park shrubs. He was just the right size to hide his entire body in one. Dudley would never stoop as low to bend that far down.

Not long after, he hears Piers shouting.

"Hurry up Dudley! I saw him go into here, and curfew is in ten minutes."

"Ten minutes, eh?" Dudley mused, walking into the park. It will take that long to get back. I know! "We'll head back, and if the freak follows we beat him" Grunts of approval were heard, shortly followed by retreating steps. Harry didn't dare move. He was scared beyond belief, and only began to move when he noticed the sky getting darker. He knew he would be punished but he didn't care.

Pushing open the door, he entered the Dursley house, making as little noise as possible. Curfew was an hour ago, and Vernon was sure to be mad. He removed his shoes, and slowly made his way to the kitchen, hoping to sneak a piece of fruit before he was punished. 

When he walked in, Vernon was there, holding his belt. Harry's eyes widened and he began to stammer an apology as fast as he could.

"SHUT UP FREAK" Vernon screamed. He raised the belt above his head, and thus signalled the beginning of a shower of pain upon his already broken body. It was a while before the whale of a man stopped, and Harry was thrown into his cupboard like a rag doll.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt was still slightly dazed when Harry began thrashing, his mouth open in a silent scream. He snapped out of his stupor, pushing open the door, and ran to the bed. The countertenor grasped the shoulders of his senior, and shook lightly, whispering both words of endearment and help. Soon after, the thrashing stopped and Harrys breathing evened out. Kurt was wary until a pale hand reached out and grasped his slightly lighter one.

"Sing" He mouthed "Sing for me. I'm scared."

"Okay Harry." Kurt checked around and took out his iPod, loading the song so he could sing along. The brunette always mucked up his timing with this song, more so when he did it in his key, making it sound too Broadway. Kurt had resolved long ago never to ruin this song, more for his mother – it was her favourite. As soon as she had died, Kurt had learnt the whole song to sing at the funeral, but he changed the words slightly to make it fitting. He sang in an octave higher than usual when he was at the funeral, because he was younger, but as soon as he hit thirteen, he began to improve his range so he could sing it at the normal pitch.

"If you leap awake in the mirror of a bad dream  
And for a fraction of a second you can't remember where you are  
Just open your window and follow your memory upstream  
To the meadow in the mountain where we counted every falling star

I believe a light that shines on you will shine on you forever  
And though I can't guarantee there's nothing scary hiding under your bed  
I'm gonna stand guard like a postcard of a Golden Retriever  
And never leave 'til I leave you with a sweet dream in your head

I'm gonna watch you shine  
Gonna watch you grow  
Gonna paint a sign  
So you'll always know  
As long as one and one is two  
There could never be another  
Who loved his mother more than I love you

Trust your intuition  
It's just like goin' fishin'  
You cast your line and hope you get a bite  
But you don't need to waste your time  
Worryin' about the market place  
Try to help the human race  
Struggling to survive its harshest night

I'm gonna watch you shine  
Gonna watch you grow  
Gonna paint a sign  
So you'll always know  
As long as one and one is two  
There could never be another  
Who loved his mother more than I love you

I'm gonna watch you shine  
Gonna watch you grow  
Gonna paint a sign  
So you'll always know  
As long as one and one is two  
There could never be another  
Who loved his mother more than I love you"

"Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I-" He trailed off, breathing slowing down as he fell asleep. He smiled down at the sleeping figure.

"I'll always be here" Kurt whispered "Whatever it takes. To make you see. To make you speak. I'll be here. When you need to cry and when you want to laugh. I'm here. I'll never leave"

If Harry could speak, he'd speak of his love for Kurt, and he'd cry for his losses. If he could see, he'd see the face of his angel; the one who never left his side. He fallen in love that first day in the hospital and it had only grown in the days gone by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Father and Daughter by Paul Simon, I changed the lyrics.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poosh is a flashback

By the time Harrys observation period was up, his bruises had mostly faded, his breaks were mostly healed, and his sensitivity to light was increasing, showing signs of improvement in his sight. It would still take months to heal his sight and voice; magic could only do so much. Doctors we astounded by his level of healing, especially when some minor injuries disappeared overnight. They brushed it off later when other patients did the same.

Kurt was still confused as to whom the lady was in Harry's room, but he soon forgot his discomfort when Harry began to remember snippets of his past. Hours went by as Harry described his adoptive parents, his school for gifted youths, his friends. Days went by, and he spoke of his enemies, the problems he had at school. Weeks went by, and Harry trusted to Kurt enough to 'talk' about the worst events; tracked by a serial killer, witnessing his parent's murder, the constant bullying. Years of taunting had made Kurt compassionate, and he too shared his trials and tribulations. Burt walked in one evening to find them curled up in the hospital bed together, tear tracks staining their faces. He smiled to himself, a knowing father smile, and left the boys in peace.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the last day of Harrys stay in hospital, and everything was sorted out for his departure, except who would sign his discharge papers and where he would stay. Lima hospital had a strange way or doing it, and they put five doctors who had worked with the patient in a room and told them to vote. If they voted yes, Harry's papers would be signed by Burt, and he'd live with the Hummel-Hudson family. If they voted no, Harry's papers would be held until a family member was found, and he would be sent to an orphanage. Harry found this method to be pretty unfair, but he brushed it off.

They had been waiting outside the door for the better part of half an hour, Harry in a wheelchair, Kurt holding a bag of prescription drugs for Harry, and Burt with everything else. Due to Harry's fast recoveries, he only had semi-major injuries affecting his legs. His knees and ankles were weak, and his legs were encased in plaster. He would be on crutches and bi-weekly physiotherapy for six months. Whilst his arms were weak, they were healed and wouldn't affect his use of crutches.

Suddenly, the door opened, and five doctors came out, two looking down trodden, and three looking very pleased.

"Congratulations Mr Hummel, you may take him home"

Almost immediately, Harrys face lit up, showing the hospital his first real smile. He'd smiled with Kurt, but he didn't trust the staff enough to show them his feelings. He'd had a strange sense of déjà vu every time a member of staff had come near him, but because he couldn't remember why, he'd become afraid of it. Kurt eventually had to give him his pills, and the doctors came when he slept to oversee changes.

Back in the present, Kurt and Burt shared a knowing grin with each other. Burt had given a rather motivational speech to the Doctors that morning, and he was sure that was what had influenced their decision.

*Poosh*

Burt Hummel strode past the entire nurses station, and had gone straight into the Doctors staff room.

"I overheard that you people are going to send that boy to an orphanage if you can't find his relatives." The Doctors were taken aback, and one of them, presumably the head, stood up. He had a full head of grey hair, pulled back in a tiny ponytail. His face was young, but his eyes were old.

"First off" he began, his rich alto voice piercing the air. "You are not supposed to be in here Mr Hummel."

"Duly noted. Continue."

"We have decided that Mr Potter will flourish better in a more, stable, environment"

"Stable my arse. That kid will move round quicker than I could say a lot of choice swears. What makes my family unstable? Is it that I'm not married? Is it that I had a heart attack? Is it that my son is gay? Because that has decided a lot recently, and I'll be severely pissed off if a kid is denied a place where he will feel comfortable for an undefined amount of time. I looked into the history and found a pretty interesting rule. And I quote

"'If a patient has severe injuries, and no immediate family, the patient can then go to the next best person. This can be either a friend of family, a close friend of the patient, or someone who has spent a minimum of two months with the patient. (The latter clause usually only applies in rare cases.) If a formal request is made from one of the three parties, then five doctors who have worked closely with the patient may take it to a vote. If there is a draw, and one of the doctors is undecided, then it goes to the patient. During the period leading up to the vote, doctors may not influence each others decisions. Due to the nature of this rule, Doctors who disobey this rule can and usually will be sued by the head of the chosen party'"

By this point, everybody in the room was gobsmacked, including the white haired man. It took a few seconds, but he recovered from his stupor, and got to work.

"Doctors Smyth, Morris, Wood, and Spencer; you are the four main Doctors for Mr Potter. We shall meet in Conference Room Three in an hour. Nurses Harrison, Erikson, Jones and Caspian; please assign yourselves a Doctor and make sure they do not break the rules. Mr Hummel, come with me. We'll sort out Mr Potters discharge papers while you wait."

"Brilliant"

*Poush*

"Come on Harry, let's go" Spoke Kurt. "We're using my navigator, but Dads driving. I'll be with you in the back. The journey is about half an hour, so if you need anything, just nudge me. Also, we get to choose your crutches on the way out. One of the perks of being American; Ohio is the only state that permits free healthcare. Sorry, I'm rambling. Are you ready to go?"

Bright emerald eyes met glasz ones and nothing more needed to be said. Kurt got behind the wheelchair and began to roll Harry towards the hospital exit.

It would be a momentous occasion - - the first time Harry Potter had been outside since his kidnapping. His memory was still fuzzy, but it was in broad daylight. The flashes he could remember about his torture were dark and damp, and no matter what he did he could remember.

As they neared the doors, they were stopped, and a friendly looking nurse came towards them.

"Mr Potter?" She enquired. The nods confirmed this, and she carried on. "I'm here to help you pick out your crutches. If you'll follow me" Harrys eyes went wide and he began to hyperventilate. Kurt noticed this and placed his hand on the shaking shoulders. The hand had the right effect, and he calmed down almost immediately. The countertenor offered a smile, and then resumed his job of pushing the chair down the hallways. It didn't take long for them to reach the storeroom, and there were mounds of crutches.

"Take all the time you need. Practice in the space over there, and then you can leave whenever. Take a few pairs, different types, so you can have a bit more fun with them."

"Thanks" Said Kurt, offering the nurse a grin. Seeing Harry's hands in a flurry of complicated motions, the teen just nodded a goodbye, and began to talk back.

"So Harry, what are we looking for?"

"Um, blacks, greens, reds and purples, along with lions, snakes, and wolves too. I don't know. It feel like they're my favourites."

"Ok then. I'll stand here, find a matching criteria, and you can say yes, no or maybe. That sound Ok?" Harry nodded, and Kurt went to stand by the heap. "Alright then, let's get started"

When they came out of the room, fifteen minutes later, Harry was sporting a pair of black and red crutches with lions on the handles. Kurt was holding a green pair with black snakes swirling up it, and a dark purple pair. The wheelchair had been given in on their way out, and all they were doing was waiting for Burt.

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Burt Hummel had just spent twenty three minutes with a doctor going over medication. As it turned out, the kid was on about four different drugs a day; Anti-Psychotics, Anti-Depressants, Anti-Anxiety, and a weird test drug for PTSD. He needed them three times a day, and was going to be weaned off them very slowly. At this moment, Burt only had one question.

"What about family?"

"Well, if we find them, or any close friends, we'll tell them, and call you."

"Thanks Doc."

"Always here to help. Now go take that kid home, and remember he needs them at 9 o'clock, 1 o'clock, and 5 o'clock, Ok?"

"Ok. See you soon." With that, Burt walked out the prescription corner with a bag of drugs and a happy smile.

Everything was coming up Hummel.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of Latin chant:
> 
> Bind his body,
> 
> Stop the age,
> 
> Half his life,
> 
> Remove the anger,
> 
> Fill with compassion,
> 
> Empathy, love,
> 
> Bind with sorrow,
> 
> Fly my Dove
> 
>  
> 
> Just for clarification, Harry was de-aged, and had his memory wiped. Also, his kidnappers put up false information for people to find. Harry believes all the information that Kurt and Burt found, though they haven't talked about it yet.


End file.
